home sweet home

The past and future are all that matters. It's the present which does not exist. The present is a delusion of the self. It is a matter of perspective, changing constantly. The future gives us hope. The past gives us experience. The present is gone before we even know what the fucks going on.

Others insist on the opposite, I'm well aware. Now is all that matters. Now is already the past, so you're wrong immediately. What happened creates what is going to happen. Our perspective is the product of where we've been, and only matters in so much as how it guides where we're going.

Suffering isn't the issue. Life knee capping me every five minutes is a fucking problem. Suffering only matters in how it guides where we're going.

The stool fell aside way too easily. Ok, I guess I'm doing this. Common to these situations, there was some ambivalence. I kicked at the fallen stool, trying to find some footing, but I was already blacking out.  I couldn't reach the stool. A few seconds passed that in retrospect felt like minutes, of just feeling hopeless. A momentary trance of accepting my fate. I don't know if I could breathe, because the carotid choke was so tight. A very familiar feeling but tapping out was not going to help. I went out before I'd had to worry about breathing.

How much time passed before I started shaking violently, I can only guess. I was hit with what felt like a massive surge of adrenaline. I was confused and disoriented as I managed to wrench my head free of the knotted bed sheet, yelling involuntarily like a wounded animal. As I lay on the cold hard floor drenched in sweat, I thought about what a strange feeling it was, almost hallucinogenic. What was I doing? I didn't know or care. Living in the moment is weird.

I'd feel horrible about doing that to my land lady. That I'd be done feeling anything aside, of course. I spoke to her about staying here long term. She has concerns, but said she'd be ok with me staying for years, if necessary. I have to get out of this limbo state of visiting a place, while having no home elsewhere. I need medical insurance, ID, and a mailing address. I need doctors. I need to know how much to invest myself in adjusting to this new gym. This whole new miserable life. I need stability.  There's always the chance things will go incredibly well someday, so go ahead with the kneecapping, it's fine.

Affordable housing was never going to save me. Maybe it will come through in a few years. Maybe I won't want to leave Philly by then. I likely won't feel much connection to Vermont anymore. Most of the people at my gym will be strangers by the time I can eventually go back. There won't be much point to going back. I have no family there anymore. I'm watching fragile new hard-fought roots dying in real time. I live here now and for the foreseeable future. My room here in Philly is the closest thing to a home I'm going to get.

One thing that we can be sure of. Though it waxes and wanes, I am acutely suicidal, and my luck won't always be the same. That is my current trajectory.